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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311771">Rough Edges of Retirement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/concertconfetti/pseuds/concertconfetti'>concertconfetti</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Almost all of them have self-esteem issues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Background Relationships, But different - they lust so hard they accidentally catch feelings, Eskel Has Self-Esteem Issues (The Witcher), Fake Character Death, Fingerfucking, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Light Dom/sub, Medieval Medicine, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Geralt, Oral Sex, Polyamorous Character, Post-The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, The vaginal sex is with a Trans Man as a heads up, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Sex, Witch Hunters, Witcher Contracts, Witcher Senses, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:42:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/concertconfetti/pseuds/concertconfetti</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years. It's been three years since the Battle of Kher Morhen, and Eskel finds himself dying in a field in Lyria. He knew this would happen eventually, but he'd hoped, maybe, someone would know (or care) that he died. As it is, it'll be years before Lambert or Geralt figure it out. That's just reality on The Path. </p><p>So when he wakes up in an Herbalist's hut, well cared for and distinctly not dead, Eskel finds he's got a bit more of an appreciation for life (and good looking mages). </p><p>---</p><p>Ashwood of Daevon is a mage and healer for a small village in Lyria, and in the last twenty years, nothing all that exciting happened. That is, until the alderman asks him to accompany him on a search for the witcher he hired to take care of a griffin problem. Ashwood finds himself taking care of a very attractive witcher - surely getting to know the man a little better won't cause any trouble. Right? </p><p>Eskel and Ashwood have to leave the village when Witch Hunters come after him. It's a long journey south, but things can't possibly get worse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Second Wind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay I have been working on this for ages and I really just want it <i>up</i> so here's the first chapter! Ashwood is a trans man, and he is my son, so I hope you enjoy his adventures. </p><p> </p><p>Content warnings for medieval medicine, extremely bad flirting, and near-death experiences.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eskel was lying in a field. Specifically, he was lying in a field in the middle of nowhere, bleeding out through the gashes in his legs and back. He was dying because he was an idiot who didn't scout a griffin nest properly. Worse than a rookie mistake; it was a mistake made by inexperienced human hunters. Not Witchers, and certainly not Eskel, arguably one of the best Witchers out there.</p><p>Except Eskel was stupid and careless and cocky and now he was dying in a wheat field leagues away from his brothers. And with Kaer Morhen gone, they likely wouldn't realize he was gone for what? A decade, maybe?</p><p>
  <i>Fuck.</i>
</p><p>He’d been contracted to take out what the villagers thought was a male griffin who’d gotten a taste for sheep. After a quick investigation of the nesting area, it appeared that the villagers had been right - one male, a bunch of sheep skeletons. A bit of decoction, a stash of Swallow, and the villagers would be out of some coin, and free of a griffin. </p><p>Just one thing - Eskel forgot to take into account the different mating seasons in the south as compared to the Northern territories. An older, and very angry, mate stormed the wheat field after he landed a particularly nasty blow on the younger male. The mate took issue, naturally. </p><p>That Eskel managed to take down both griffins boiled down to his swordsmanship and superior use of signs. He kept the beasts grounded and away from each other with Aard, and kept the older griffin busy by setting her on fire. Repeatedly. He downed enough potions to ignore the oozing wounds and the deep, burning pain in his abdomen. After an hour, the griffins were dead, and Eskel made an attempt to get back to Scorpion before the potions wore off. He collapsed at the edge of the wheat field and fell unconscious. </p><p>He faded back into consciousness sometime in the evening. His hands were pressed tightly against his abdomen, holding Eskel together. Somewhat. There was only so much mutatagenic healing could do in cases like this. Wheat scratched at the skin exposed by tears in his armor and it chaffed like hell. After a few abortive attempts to get off of his back and into a kneeling position, Eskel forced himself into a meditative state as best he could before losing track of the world again.</p><p>When the last thing you remember clearly is the too-sharp edges of plants scraping at your already raw and infected skin, waking up in a comparatively soft bed feels a lot like waking up in the afterlife. Eskel’s head throbbed with pain when he attempted to open his eyes and the smell of the place was slightly overwhelming in the way everything was when Witcher potions burned off. <i>Better to take things slowly, then</i>, Eskel thought as he flexed his fingers. </p><p>Satisfied his hands were working, he gently probed at his abdomen - someone had bandaged over his wounds with herb soaked cloth. When he breathed in, the smell of juniper, aspen, and broom from a fireplace to his left. He could also pick out the scents of celandine, eyebright, sage, willow bark - healer’s herbs. And under that, monk's hood and...damiana? A healer making money in poison and sex on the side. Eskel's kind of herbalist.</p><p>"Have you returned to the world, Master Witcher?" Came a voice from behind him, if his hearing was accurate. He chanced opening one of his eyes - a slim young man came to crouch next to Eskel's bed.</p><p>"Depends," he said, voice deep and rough from unconsciousness. "World worth coming back to?"</p><p>The herbalist chuckled. "I continue to think so, at least," he said. "Something new every day - never had to drag a Witcher out of a wheat field before. You were in a grim state."</p><p>Eskel hummed. He eased his other eye open and stared at the ceiling until his eyes adjusted. </p><p>"M' name's Ashwood, by the way," the herbalist offered. "May I check your bandages?"</p><p>"You need to ask?"</p><p>"Now that you're awake, yes," Ashwood said simply. "It's your body. I've heard Witcher's tend to prefer taking care of their own wounds."</p><p>"When we can, sure," Eskel grumbled. "But I am not so proud as to refuse help when it's offered." He chanced a glance at Ashwood; his meadow-green eyes lit up with a soft smile. His skin was a tawny, yellow-brown, his fingers coated in the greens and yellows of crushed herbs.  As Ashwood gently pulled back Eskel's chainse, the Witcher remembered his manners and stopped staring.</p><p>"Eskel."</p><p>"Hmm?" Ashwood glanced up at the Witcher, his nimble fingers gently pulling the old bandages away.</p><p>"My name - it's Eskel." </p><p>"Pleasure to meet you, Master Eskel," Ashwood said with a grin, "though I do wish it was under better circumstances. I promise I'm not usually this handsy with handsome men upon our first meeting."</p><p>Eskel chucked and winced as the laughter rumbled in his chest. A broken rib, then, that he hadn't accounted for.</p><p>"Let's see here," Ashwood said, turning his gaze back to the gashes on Eskel's torso. He gently pulled a set of bandages out of each wound; Eskel hissed at the strange pressure of the fabric pulling against his skin. "Apologies," Ashwood continued, "it appears as though the celandine-infused bandages managed to pull the infection out, so I won't have to fill the gashes again. At least the ones here on your abdomen. I'll still need to check your back and left calf. These, though, I should be able to stitch back up.</p><p>"Do you have supplies you usually use for things like this? You are certainly healing faster than most, but I have a feeling it's slower than you're used to." Ashwood was a verbose healer. Eskel appreciated the specifics - he felt as if he had a good idea of what his body would need to properly mend given Ashwood's description. </p><p>"Scorpion, my horse, should have my potions among his saddlebags," Eskel said. "If you can bring them, I can tell you which potion and salve I'll need, and you can start with your sutures."</p><p>Ashwood nodded, folding the original bandage into place to keep Eskel's gashes covered. "I stabled your horse out back, and your bags are in my bedroom. I'll be back in a tick," he said, darting off to a room behind Eskel's bed. </p><p>Eskel tried to relax into the cot as Ashwood rifled through his bags. The rustling was surprisingly quiet, for an...elf? Ashwood was at least partly elf, given the color of his eyes. Eskel hadn't gotten a good look at Ashwood's ears, and it would be rude to ask. He wondered, idly, if this particular village was more open to non-humans than most.</p><p>"All right then," Ashwood said, walking carefully back into the room and setting something by the door. Eskel followed him with his eyes to a work table at the edge of the room. Eskel's swords sat by the door; the tell-tale sound of his potions rolling against the bench brought his attention to Ashwood's back. "Tell me about the pretties, if you please," Ashwood said with a glance over his shoulder. </p><p>Eskel smirked. "Right, there should be a reddish-gold one in a long-necked bottle -" Ashwood held up two vials of a red potion in Eskel's line-of-sight. "Yes, those. That's Swallow and should help any internal injuries I have. Then there should be a salve in there - should help keep the stitches clean."</p><p>"Excellent. Give me just a moment to sterilize my needle," Ashwood said as he pulled a small table to Eskel's bedside. He turned to the fireplace and threw fire into it; Eskel blinked.</p><p>“Mm, that explains the buzzing,” Eskel muttered. “You’re a mage.” Ashwood looked up to see Eskel holding his medallion and nods. </p><p>"Yes, though the locals tend to go with 'witch'," Ashwood said cheerily. "They still buy my potions and oils, though. Perhaps sex trumps prejudice," he mumbled, turning the needle in the fire for a moment. Ashwood dropped the hot needle into a glass of water to cool and gently threaded it with catgut before swiping Eskel's skin with a clear alcohol. "This will sting," Ashwood said gently, laying a hand on Eskel's torso. </p><p>"I doubt I'll feel it," Eskel grumbled, flushing slightly at the touch. Ashwood shrugged and began working. It did, in fact, sting, but Eskel managed to keep his face neutral anyway. The gashes were long and deep, and Ashwood fell into a quiet pattern after a few minutes. His hair was brown, worn long on top, and shaved on the sides. His ears were ever so slightly pointed. Ban Ard must've been delighted when they found a way to enroll Ashwood. Eskel's hand flexed with the sudden urge to run his hand through the healer's hair while he worked. </p><p>"Copper for your thoughts, Eskel," Ashwood inquired, keeping his eyes focused on the sutures.</p><p>"Hmm," Eskel rumbled. "How...how did you find me out there? I doubt you were just out on a stroll."</p><p>Ashwood laughed. "No, the alderman stopped by to ask for my help," he said, tying off the last suture on the first gash. "He'd gotten worried when night fell and you hadn't returned - I can't say if that was an altruistic worry or not. Either way, I grabbed some herbs and bandages and followed him out to the wheat fields. Your Scorpion was making quite the racket - it was easy enough to find you once we spotted him.</p><p>"I did what I could for your wounds out in the field and had help getting you here. You're going to feel a pinch a bit lower with this one," Ashwood murmured, rethreading his needle and starting the next round of sutures. Eskel flinched, but only slightly. "I went back for Scorpion once you were stable and I'd negotiated for double your promised pay."</p><p>Eskel squinted at Ashwood, who looked up at him with a sly smile. "I saw the corpses - two griffons. The Alderman, the one that hired you, told me he'd hired you for one," Ashwood said. His face broke into a gorgeous grin before he returned to his work. "I told him I'd return the coin if you died."</p><p>"That's...you didn't have to do that," Eskel said, clearing his throat. "I did a piss poor job of things, almost dying."</p><p>"Yeah but the griffons are dead, in the end, right? That's work. People need to get fairly paid for their labor." There was a bitter edge to Ashwood's words, barely audible but Eskel could smell it roiling there under the scent of sage and tea-leaves. </p><p>Eskel decided to leave it alone. </p><p>There was an intimacy to the stitching that made Eskel's skin itch. He's never had the luxury of extra hands after a hunt (something he teased Geralt about endlessly when Jaskier started clinging to Geralt's legs); he wasn't used to being...examined and called 'handsome' in the same interaction. Ashwood's hands were calloused, not at all what Eskel expected of mage's hands, and quick. Precise. Still, sutures took ages, and Eskel had counted bushels of drying herbs three times over by the time Ashwood's hands stilled. </p><p>"Right," he breathed, "let me get the salve on this." Eskel hissed as Ashwood gently messaged the cold salve into his skin, the herbalist murmuring soft apologies as he went. The effect was strangely soothing and Eskel found himself drifting off as Ashwood worked. </p><p>He came to sometime later; the fire had been banked, and Ashwood was back at his workbench. The thick scent of tea hung in the room. A plate of cold meat, cheese, and bread sat where Ashwood's tools had been. </p><p>"Sorry," Eskel said, voice thick with sleep. Ashwood glanced over at him, a soft smile on his face.</p><p>"No apologies needed, Eskel," he said before pouring a new cup of tea. "In the excitement, I had quite forgotten you hadn't eaten in a few days. Can you sit?" </p><p>Both teacups found their way onto the small side table, and Eskel attempted to shift himself up onto his elbows. The movement strained his broken ribs and tugged uncomfortably at the unsutured gashes.</p><p>"Ah, shit," Eskel hissed under his breath. Ashwood's eyes flicked over Eskel's body and the mage seemed to come to a decision and dashed to the back room. Eskel managed to keep himself up until he felt a set of pillows get placed behind him. </p><p>"Here, relax a moment and we'll get you righted," Ashwood said softly, leaning in near Eskel's face and looping his arms under the Witcher's. Eskel sighed, willing his muscles to relax, and let himself be lifted into a sort of lounging position that put less pressure on his torso. "Good?" Ashwood said; he turned himself to face Eskel, searching his face for signs of pain. His hands softly gripped at the Witcher's broad shoulders. Finding only mild amusement in Eskel's face, Ashwood grinned and pulled away to bring over the tea and food. </p><p><i>Fuck it,</i> the witcher thought, and Eskel caught Ashwood's hand in his and held it gently. When Eskel felt Ashwood relax - likely looking at him - he turned the mage's hand over to run a thumb over the rough calluses there, taking time to examine the lines and stains on Ashwood's hand. The mage made a sort of strangled noise above him; Eskel smirked.</p><p>"It was hard not touching you earlier," Eskel said, his voice low and smooth. "I'm not used to anyone touching me for extended periods outside of the bedroom."</p><p>"O-oh. Um," Ashwood stumbled over his words, his face flushed. "I… I find that quite hard to believe."</p><p>Eskel shrugged a shoulder, running his thumb up and down one of Ashwood's fingers, causing the other man to shiver. "Most people don't want to spend more than a few minutes in the presence of a witcher," he replied, contemplating Ashwood's wrist momentarily. "Unless you count partially cracked bards and rude sorceresses, but that might just be my brother."</p><p>Ashwood let out a sort of manic laugh, and Eskel pushed his luck and brushed his fingers up Ashwood's wrist. He flicked his eyes up at the mage, who'd gone bright red, his spring-meadow eyes blown wide. Ashwood gripped the side of his small medical table and swallowed.</p><p>"Eskel," Ashwood said, his voice thick and mildly stilted, "under better circumstances I… well. I'd bed you right here." Eskel huffed a laugh, earning a smile from Ashwood. "But - but," Ashwood continued, trying to clear the arousal from his voice, "sitting up caused you pain, so sex is, unfortunately, out of the question. For now."</p><p>"For now? That a promise, mage?" Eskel all but growled, his grip on Ashwood's hand tightening slightly. </p><p>"If you want it to be," Ashwood replied, face flushed but carefully neutral. Eskel smirked, his scar pulling his lip up into a sort of snarl. Still, he pulled Ashwood's hand up and brushed his lips over the healer's knuckles.</p><p>"A promise, then," he said, his voice rumbling low in his chest. He let Ashwood's hand fall from his fingers, chuckling when Ashwood quickly pulled over the table of food for him and darted over to his workbench to gather himself. </p><p>The two settled into a quiet evening; Ashwood eventually returned to the fire with a chair and a book, sipping tea while Eskel ate. With the quiet, and the changed He surprised the witcher with a second plate of food and a tankard of water after Eskel finished the first plate.</p><p>"You can have ale once we finish your stitches," Ashwood murmured, patting Eskel on the back. </p><p>"I know more about healing than the average peasant," Eskel grumbled. "You don't need to patronize me."</p><p>"Not patronizing, just informing," Ashwood replied with a smile. "Now eat up. I would like to sleep at some point this evening, and that means finishing your sutures."</p><p>Eskel grumbled something about "Ban Ard mages" and would have pouted if he hadn't registered a particular stiffness in Ashwood's demeanor. <i>Shit, things were just starting to go well.</i></p><p>Ashwood continued the intricate dance of sterilizing his tools and preparing lengths of catgut; he silently cleaned off the small, movable table and cooled his needle, before nodding to himself. </p><p>"Right, sutures," Ashwood said, looking Eskel over. His expression appeared guarded. "We've got two options - you can turn over onto your stomach, which is less movement and avoids any bending. The downside is I will need to sit on your back to reach the gashes."</p><p>"Or?"</p><p>"Or you can sort of crunch forward and put your head where your feet are."</p><p>"I have at least one broken rib," Eskel reminded Ashwood, "if not more."</p><p>"Just giving you options," Ashwood said with a shrug. Eskel rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Just grab the pillow and sit on my ass, mage," he grumbled, slowly making moves to turn around. Ashwood smirked. </p><p>"Can do," Ashwood said softly. Once Eskel was settled, he moved his tools threaded his needle, and knelt astride Eskel's hips. "This will be less awkward if we talk through it," Ashwood murmured as he pulled the bandages away from Eskel's back. </p><p>"How's it looking back there?"</p><p>"There's more blood and puss back here than there was on your stomach," Ashwood said, slipping into the voice he'd used to talk through Eskel's first exam. A sort of steady, calm tenor, monotonous and light. "Expected, mostly. These gashes were the worst of the damage. You'll feel some pulling as I take the inserted bandages out."</p><p>Eskel grunted, wincing slightly, distracted only by the slight pressure of Ashwood's hips on his own. He tried not to think about it too much. </p><p>"I'm going to start the sutures," Ashwood said after a moment, swiping a cloth from Eskel's spine to his right side. "Talk to me, Eskel. What do witchers get up to, hm? I've heard some tales, but I suspect they're overblown."</p><p>"Hmm, well, I killed a really old Katakan once," Eskel started, and leaned into the familiar tale. Happened right before everything changed. He could still picture telling his family this story; Geralt and Yen sitting across from him and Lambert, back at the keep, back when Vesemir was still alive and bitching about the fucking beams in the south tower. Something in Eskel’s chest twisted and he saw the pyre in his mind’s eye, Ciri snatching Vesemir’s medallion, the air thick with guilt and blame and sadness, and Geralt’s face falling when Eskel said he was leaving. Geralt’s constant, frustrating understanding of Eskel’s pain. His jaw tightened and his voice thinned toward the end of the story, and the silence that followed felt like weights on Eskel’s back.</p><p>He switched tactics after that. Kept things light. He talked about parties and contracts that weren't what they appeared to be on the face; did his best to keep Ashwood laughing. The mage's laugh was musical whether he chuckled or broke out into a fit of giggles. Eskel did usually get the pleasure of getting to know the people he slept with - not that he'd actually slept with Ashwood yet, but he was attractive and he promised - and Eskel found he enjoyed the opportunity.</p><p>"Oh, thank Melitele, that's the back done," Ashwood said, his smile evident in his voice.  "That just leaves, ah, your thigh."</p><p>"I'm guessing you want me on my back," Eskel joked his voice a bit thick through his grin. </p><p>"Mm, in more ways than one, dear witcher, but this is strictly business," Ashwood replied, easing off of Eskel's backside. "Take your time, I need to get a new needle." </p><p>Once again, Eskel was struck with frustration at the prospect of being close to someone attractive and willing but being physically incapable of anything other than lying there. He groaned as he rolled back over and attempted to will his renewed arousal away. It worked, mostly, until Ashwood came back and settled at the end of the bed. </p><p>"The gash is on the inside of your right thigh," he said quietly, not quite making eye contact with Eskel. "I'll, um, I'm going to uh… rest your ankle on my shoulder and just… get to it then, unless you have any objections."</p><p><i>Several.</i> "None that I can think of."</p><p>Ashwood nodded and focused on getting the area ready for sutures. Bandages removed. Gash cleaned of blood. "You'll feel a sting." The whole thing felt oddly familiar and routine. As Ashwood stitched, Eskel stared at the ceiling, unsuccessfully ignoring the light touch of his healer's hands on the more sensitive parts of his thigh. It stung more than the rest, and the situation was too awkward to continue his game of making Ashwood laugh. When he did chance a look down at the man, he found Ashwood focused, though the tips of his ears were turning an intense red from blushing. It was cute and <i>incredibly</i> frustrating. </p><p>After what felt like ages, Ashwood finished his work, gently covering the gash with the salve. He quickly ducked off the bed, using his clean hand to lower Eskel's leg to the mattress.</p><p>"And now, dear witcher, you may drink your potion," Ashwood said. He pulled the vial of swallow off of the bookcase behind Eskel and handed it to the witcher. </p><p>"Never thought I'd be thankful for Swallow," Eskel mumbled. He downed the toxin quickly, coughing as it burned through his throat and into his bloodstream. Gods he hated this - he could feel his ribs cracking back into place. At least the skin was already stitched together; with any luck, he'd be able to sleep without the sensation of his muscles and skin sealing back up.</p><p>Ashwood hesitated next to the bed as Eskel rode out the worst of the potion, eventually reaching out and running a hand through Eskel's hair. "Will you be able to sleep?" He asked quietly. Eskel nodded. </p><p>"If I can't, I'll meditate," Eskel said through his teeth. "Not as satisfying as sleep but just as restorative. I'll be fine, Ashwood, go get some rest."</p><p>Ashwood looked unconvinced, but nodded and left the room, returning briefly to lay a blanket at Eskel's feet.</p><p>"Get some rest, Eskel," Ashwood murmured, almost too quietly to hear, and he extinguished the candles with a snap and left Eskel in the dull glow of the banked fire.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I Cannot Find the Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ashwood explains a bit about himself, and Eskel helps him make deliveries around the town of Florence in Lyria.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for awkward coming out speeches, racism, anti-witcher bias, and anti-mage bias. Beta read by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dredshirtroberts/">@dredshirtroberts</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ashwood woke late the next morning with a groan. His dreams had been full of witchers in his bed and <i>in him</i> and holding him down and, surely, doing delicious things he couldn’t quite remember as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Nothing like the intense arousal of a dream immediately being yanked out from under you and dumping you in a cold bed.</p><p>Ashwood pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Oh, what have you gotten yourself into, Ashwood of Daevon?" He murmured to himself, willing darkness back over his consciousness. Failing that, he sat up and blearily reached for the clothes he'd laid out the night before - simple linen shirt and brais in greens and browns - when he noticed the saddlebags were missing. Ashwood swallowed his panic and breathed, heaving himself out of bed. If Eskel - if the witcher left, that was his prerogative. <i>You can't force a patient to accept care.</i></p><p>Still, his heart ached a bit. It couldn't be helped - Ashwood fell hard often and was used to picking up the pieces when he shattered. </p><p>He wandered slowly into the main room - there was a plate of fresh berries and bread left out on Ashwood's table. The coals had been doused and the bed was made. Eskel's potion bag was still on the work table. Ashwood blinked, walking up to the workbench - a bundle of celandine had been pulled from its place in the wine-rack Ashwood used for herb storage. His crucible was out - he’d definitely put that away the night before - and… <i>is that brain in my crucible?</i> Ashwood thought as he held the crucible up to scrutinize. </p><p>“Shit, I was hoping to clean that before you woke up,” came a voice from behind Ashwood, causing the mage to jump and scramble to catch the loose crucible. He slammed it onto the workbench (<i>harder than expected, there’ll be cracks that’ll be impossible to clean</i>) and whirled around to face a very present, very shirtless Eskel, who had managed in a few short hours to get covered in dirt and sweat. He smirked at Ashwood, who flushed but managed to maintain eye contact. “Had to make sure Scorpion knew I was alive - bugger gets antsy if he doesn’t get enough attention,” Eskel said nonchalantly, slipping the horse’s tack and saddlebags onto the chest to the right of the door, bending only a little bit stiffly at the waist. He glanced up at Ashwood before finishing his thought; “I saw you had berry bushes out back, so I picked what I could for breakfast, as a way to start saying thank you.” </p><p>“Oh, ah,” Ashwood said, glancing back over to the table. “Thank you. I’d been meaning to harvest the blackberries.” Eskel straightened back out to his full height, wincing slightly at the strain; Ashwood looked the witcher up and down, looking (ostensibly) for loose stitches.</p><p>"You really should be resting," he said when Eskel made eye contact with him, "no strenuous activities. And we definitely need to get you a bath so I can replace those bandages."</p><p>"Mm, that really puts a damper on my plans for the day," Eskel said as he stepped closer into Ashwood's space. "If I promise to rest, will you promise to relax about my injuries?" He asked. "As... <i>engaging</i> as yesterday was, I'd prefer talking about anything else."</p><p>Ashwood tilted his head slightly to meet Eskel's gaze with a smirk. "As long as you promise to talk to me if something is wrong," he says, gently brushing his fingers along Eskel's jaw. <i>Careful, Ash</i>, a small voice whispered in the back of Ashwood's mind, <i>you've been down this road before.</i></p><p>Trouble was, Ashwood never got anywhere by tampering his impulses. His fingers curled under the witcher's chin: he felt Eskel flexing the muscles there, felt him lean toward him. That was enough - Ashwood surged forward, capturing Eskel's mouth with his own. The witcher chuckled before returning the kiss with the sort of heat Ashwood wasn’t expecting. Eskel ran the tip of his tongue across Ashwood’s lower lip, crowding him back against the workbench. He gasped, and Eskel took the opportunity to explore Ashwood’s mouth and pulled a startled moan from him. They weren’t quite flush, not yet; Eskel’s hand slipped under Ashwood’s shirt, skimming against his skin before hitching down to his thigh and yanking Ashwood’s leg up to his hip. Before Eskel could press closer, Ashwood hauled himself onto the workbench. A low rumble vibrated through Eskel's chest as he pulled away slightly.</p><p>"This mean sex out of the question?" Eskel asked, his voice breathy and strung out. </p><p>Ashwood laughed, high and thin and desperate, and leaned forward to press a kiss to the scarred corner of Eskel's mouth; he felt the barest trace of a flinch under his lips. "I am still interested, Eskel," Ashwood murmurs, "and sex isn’t out of the question. But -" Eskel's face fell, almost imperceptibly, as he pulled away slightly. Ashwood snatched his hand off the table and held it with both of his. "Listen, first," the mage continued. "I am… this is about me and it is difficult to explain."</p><p>Ashwood straightened his back, closed his eyes, and willed his hands to stop shaking. <i>Breathe in</i>. The air in the house was stifling, the smell of ash mixed with the herbs behind him; his heart thundered against his chest. Slowly, Eskel moved his hand to grip Ashwood's.</p><p>"You mentioned Ban Ard last night," Ashwood started, opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on the floor. "Which is flattering, honestly? Means my ascension went well."</p><p>Eskel fixed Ashwood with a look he couldn't quite place - confusion, maybe? If they weren't both in such a hurry to jump each other's bones, Ashwood might have thought it was fondness. </p><p>"I was raised at Aretuza," Ashwood continued, still carefully avoiding Eskel's gaze. "My… insistence that I was a man fell on deaf ears. I waited and learned and prayed I was worthy of ascension and… gods this is agonizing."</p><p>"It's okay," Eskel whispered, low and soft like he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. Ashwood snorted and looked away from him. "Met an elf once, described herself as aedde'cáerme," Eskel continued. "Said it meant her body didn't match her soul."</p><p>"Sounds overly poetic," Ashwood muttered. "Was she a bard?"</p><p>"Tailor, I think," Eskel said. He settled back on his heels, rocking away from Ashwood slightly, but kept a firm grip on his hand, threading their fingers together. "I've met others like you; doesn't change my intentions." Ashwood turned to face Eskel and met his eyes for the first time since he interrupted things. The witcher seemed to size him up; he placed his hands on both sides of Ashwood's hips. "I know this is a difficult thing to discuss," Eskel continued, "You are a capable healer and a man who is unfairly attractive for this small of a village. And I would still very much like to take you to bed."</p><p>A deep red blush bloomed in Ashwood’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and said, "I would love to accompany you. First, I must break my fast and you-" he lightly jabbed a finger into Eskel's shoulder - "need a bath of some sort. Can’t soak sutures."</p><p>A genuine smile graced Eskel's face before his forehead met Ashwood's shoulder. His rumbling laugh shook the smaller man slightly and left Ashwood in a bit of a daze. <i>Gods this man has no idea how beautiful he is</i>, Ashwood thought as he, too, found himself laughing.</p><p>Ashwood allowed himself to relax. He settled into the chair at his small table, and pulled bread and berries onto his plate while Eskel went about pulling Ashwood’s tub out of his room. Homes in this area of Lyria were larger than those found in Velen, but Ashwood’s home was still modest; from his corner of the home, he could see the whole of the space. The cot was shoved under a window on the far side of the house, between his table and a bookshelf; the opposite wall was dominated by a fireplace and the front door. Beyond that, the house opened up into a large space that Ashwood used as a bedroom. That doorway was where Eskel deposited the tub before wandering outside for water. </p><p>Ashwood was given the house when he arrived; it was formerly owned by a goat herd. <i>Thankfully I kept the lean-to</i>, Ashwood thought to himself, <i>Scorpion doesn't seem like the type of horse who tolerates the rain</i>. Caring for a warhorse was distinctly not in Ashwood’s medical wheelhouse and he was relieved that Eskel was able to care for the beast. Not that Scorpion wasn’t lovely - he’d taken to using his huge head to push Ashwood around the little garden. Ever been laughed at by a horse? Ashwood was becoming increasingly familiar with the feeling. </p><p>“You still with me, Ashwood?” Eskel flicked water at Ashwood’s face. He knew it was in jest, so Ashwood hurled a berry at Eskel’s head, coaxing another round of laughter from the witcher. “Will you give me a hand with my back?” Eskel was naked, sat on the edge of the tub, and used one of Ashwood’s towels to wipe himself down. He swallowed thickly and nodded - he was, after all, a medic. </p><p>Ashwood grabbed a smaller cloth from the bookshelf by the cot, wet it with fresh water, and began gently dabbing around the sutures. Eskel winced occasionally when the cloth brushed too close to raw edges of the wounds. Ashwood murmured nonsense apologies as he worked, occasionally tracing a finger down an older scar, wondering at the shape and depth of them. </p><p>"Scars are a catalog of a witcher's mistakes," Eskel intoned solemnly while Ashwood gently dried around the sutures. </p><p>"That's an idiotic way of phrasing it," Ashwood muttered. "If anything, it's a catalog of times you went against shitty odds and came through it alive." Eskel turned to face him; Ashwood tossed the towel over his face. "Now get dressed. I'm going to take advantage of ruining the mood and make some deliveries."</p><p>Potions and salves did not lend themselves well to packing - Ashwood's overfill basket was a mess of vials in various shapes, jammed in next to pats of topical medications. Here and there he'd stuffed in a few charms visiting merchants asked for - simple illusions, all of them, to hide blemishes and scarring. Ashwood hated making them, and overcharged for them when anyone insisted they needed such charms. Small lies were a terrible basis for relationships.</p><p>While Ashwood worked, Eskel clambered back into his clothing. Over the course of Eskel's initial recovery, Ashwood had gotten the witcher's armor repaired; Eskel pulled on his black, armored trousers and his boots before throwing on the grey linen shirt that served as the base-layer for his gear. He stomped loudly into the work room, catching Ashwood's attention as intended.</p><p>"I see my armor has been repaired," he said as a mock accusation. Ashwood turned and raised a brow.</p><p>"As much as I might like to see you in assless trousers," Ashwood said with a smirk, "it appeared those were your <i>only</i> trousers. Think nothing of it." He waved Eskel off and resumed writing out his inventory for the day, vaguely aware of the witcher slipping his steel sword onto his back. "I do hope you won't be needing that," he said casually, "assuming you're planning on tagging along."</p><p>"You never know," Eskel replied. "A witcher never travels unarmed." Ashwood slipped his arm under the basket handle and grabbed his list; Eskel held the door open for him, and the two set out into town.</p><p>Florence, Eskel learned, was a newer settlement - land was given to a group of farmers, human and non-human, with the intention of bolstering the city of Lyria's agricultural output. The town itself boasted a small market, inn, bar and brothel, as well as homes for a number of artisans. Ashwood's home was off-set from the village proper by about half a mile, so the two men had a bit of a walk to the alderman's home.</p><p>Ashwood was intensely aware of the additional scrutiny Eskel was drawing; none of the villagers said anything, of course, but Ashwood could tell they were weary of the witcher. That made Ashwood all the more determined to show he appreciated Eskel's company.</p><p>"There are a handful of merchants we'll need to stop by after we see the alderman," Ashwood said, looking over his list. "All humans. From Novigrad. I'm expecting them to try to haggle my prices lower than we agreed to."</p><p>"That happen often?" Eskel asked. Ashwood shrugged.</p><p>"Sometimes. Not as often as people try to cheat a witcher, I'd imagine," he said with an irritated buzz in his voice. "I've never understood why people do that, by the way. Try to cheat you."</p><p>Eskel returned Ashwood's shrug. "People don't see monster hunting as work, nor they don't see witchers as folk who deserve respect," he said. They'd turned a corner in the town proper, and things were starting to look familiar. "Doesn't help that we're considered non-human and we've earned a rather gory reputation."</p><p>"You'd think that'd make people think twice," Ashwood muttered. "Either way it smacks of a distinct lack of empathy." To his side, the witcher snorted at Ashwood's scowl and determined glare. Few people carried the sort of outlook Ashwood espoused, and it was endearing to see out of a mage in the middle of nowhere. </p><p>Ashwood knocked gingerly on the alderman's door. "Come in!" The alderman cried, and Ashwood entered the house just as gingerly. A rumpled looking human sat at a desk in front of them, and jumped a little in his seat when he met Eskel's eyes.</p><p>"Why, Master Witcher, it's good to see you up and about," the alderman said in a reasonably convincing tone of gratitude. "I see our Ashwood's care did you well."</p><p>"Yes, Master Ashwood has done an excellent job," Eskel said, smirking at the mage.</p><p>"I wanted to bring Eskel around to assure you I hadn't stolen his pay," Ashwood said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And to drop off the potions you ordered."</p><p>"Ah yes, let's see them and then I'll get your coin!" </p><p>Eskel shot Ashwood a look; the elven man rolled his eyes and began digging in his basket. He produced three salves, two healing potions, and two smaller vials. "This one is the rat poison you requested," Ashwood said, holding the small vial in his hand and pointing out the label. "Use one drop on each of your traps and that should take care of the problem. If anything other than rats die by this potion, I will be able to tell."</p><p>The alderman laughed, looking over the vial as Ashwood set it down. He never did react properly to Ashwood's reminders and threats. Still, the mage continued, "this aphrodisiac should assist with your attempts to conceive."</p><p>"Oh, thank the gods for you, Ashwood," the alderman said, reaching for the vial, but Ashwood's hand closed over it. </p><p>"I don't want to hear about any young folk suddenly falling in love, alderman," he said darkly. "I do not take kindly to my potions or magic being used on folk against their will."</p><p>"I do not know what you are so concerned about, mage," the alderman said, though the edge in his voice made Eskel's sword hand twitch. "You know I only asked for this because my wife wants a child."</p><p>Ashwood nodded and handed the vial over. A coin purse was pushed into Ashwood's hands as payment, and the mage bowed politely. "Will you be requiring any other services, Alderman?" He asked. </p><p>"No, that will be all." Ashwood bowed his head again and steered them both out of the alderman's home.</p><p>"Do you always get treated like that?" Eskel said with a growl at the edge of his voice. Ashwood shook his head.</p><p>"No, that's just Colt's special brand of irritating," Ashwood said with a sigh. "He hates mages, mostly, yet relies on me for… a lot. Hence the sheer variety of goods he orders. Takes it out on me and some of the elves in town because he was raised in a barn."</p><p>The rest of the visits go smoothly - Ashwood worked hard to build up trust in this community. Still, it was painfully obvious that the non-humans trusted him with their lives, while the humans were weary of his every move, despite singing his praises to Eskel. The hypocrisy didn't phase the healer too much, but he noticed the anger on his companions face as they headed towards the market.</p><p>Merchants gather around Ashwood when he arrives, all talking over each other in an excited babble before making eye contact with Eskel and backing off slightly. </p><p>“Master Ashwood, I didn’t realize you were working with a Witcher,” one of the bolder gentlemen said, nerves creeping into his voice as his eyes darted between the mage and the witcher in turn. Ashwood offered them a gentle smile. </p><p>“Eskel here is my patient, and he kindly agreed to escort me into town as a way to get some fresh air,” he said simply. Eskel kept his face neutral but raised an eyebrow at the merchant in question when he dared make eye contact. “Now, I have the requested charms - you will receive them once I receive payment.” </p><p>“Yes, about that,” one of the merchants, a younger man in fine silks, walked forward with a stern look on his face. “I think you’re overcharging us.” A murmur erupted amongst the crowd the tone of which slowly went from curious to angry. </p><p>“Sir, I will remind you that we discussed the terms of my pricing before you ordered the charms and that you all agreed to said terms,” Ashwood said, professional medical voice kicking in. “I do not enjoy making items that folk can use to deceive and harm other folks. You recall this, yes?” </p><p>“You’re just trying to take advantage of the desperate!” Another man called out and the crowd rallied around him. A long-suffering sigh escaped the mage and Eskel took a step forward. </p><p>“Did you or did you not agree to Master Ashwood’s terms when you ordered the charms made?” He said, voice rough and angry. The merchants take a step back, leaving only the young man with his fine, thin silks in front of the witcher.</p><p>“We - we did but that doesn’t mean - “</p><p>“Did Master Ashwood explain his pricing thoroughly?”</p><p>“Well, yes, Master Witcher, but you see other mages -”</p><p>“I don’t give a damn about other mages right now,” Eskel said darkly. “I care about this particular mage and his coin. Did you agree to the price?” </p><p>The merchants all grumbled amongst themselves before a chorus of ‘yes’es echoed amongst them. Eskel raised a brow. “If you want your charms, you’ll pay the agreed upon price,” he growled. Ashwood shot him a thankful look as some of the more uppity merchants sputtered and left indignantly. The rest produced coin pouches.</p><p>The exchange took some time as Ashwood reminded each merchant of the dangers of even minor illusions before handing over the charms. Eventually, though, Ashwood's basket was nearly empty, and he grinned at Eskel as they walked away from the market. By now, the sun was hanging lower in the sky - early evening suited the Lyrian countryside well. The clear blue of the sky was streaked with deep purples and pinks, and the trees around the town gained a soft halo of greens and yellows. Eskel fell into step next to Ashwood as they took a thin winding path through the woods. </p><p>"Last stop - an elven family moved into the old blacksmiths place last year," Ashwood explained. "Their daughter experiences chronic pain; I was able to find a combination of herbs to ease that pain so she can continue her studies properly."</p><p>Eskel hummed. The path around them was darker than he liked - he could hear wolves not far off. Eventually they dumped out into a fenced-in clearing with a small hut and forge in the center.</p><p>"Ashwood!" A small voice yelled from the porch - a child with dark brown skin and brilliant green eyes waved enthusiastically from a chair there. Ashwood waved back and lengthened his stride.</p><p>"Hello, Ashael!" Ashwood said, his voice lilting into a song, echoing around the clearing. "How are you doing elk heart?"</p><p>"Good! My legs are much better and dad's teaching me about daggers," the little girl said with a grin. "Who's your friend?" She said, pointing to the edge of the clearing. Eskel stood stone still at the edge of the path, doing his best to look casual when Ashwood turned around.</p><p>"That's Eskel," Ashwood said, still looking over his shoulder. When he turned back to Ashael with a grin, he leaned down and whispered, "he's a witcher."</p><p>Ashael gasped dramatically. "Dad says witchers can kill any monster!" She said bouncing in her seat. "Is that true?"</p><p>"Most of them, sure."</p><p>"Why's he all the way over there?"</p><p>Ashwood frowned and looked back at Eskel. "Well, Ashael, not everyone is kind to witchers," he said quietly. "He's been helping me make deliveries but that doesn't mean he trusts us."</p><p>"But we're not mean!" Ashael cried, standing up briefly and cupping her hands to her mouth. "HEY, MISTER ESKEL," she yelled, directly next to Ashwood's ear, "YOU CAN COME CLOSER IF YOU WANT! I PROMISE WE'RE NOT MEAN!" She collapsed back into her chair with a wince; Ashwood clapped her shoulder gently. </p><p>"Easy now, love," Ashwood said, "don't use up all of your energy now." While Ashael got settled into her seat, Ashwood shook his head in an attempt to clear the ringing from his ear. A hand came down gently on Ashwood's shoulder and Ashael gaped up at Eskel, who had his head turned in such a way that the scars on his face weren't immediately apparent. Ashwood smiled at him, "Eskel, this is Ashael. She's learning about daggers."</p><p>"Is she now?" Eskel asked. He crouched next to Ashwood to better meet Ashael's gaze. "Nice to meet you, Lady Ashael."</p><p>Ashael's face scrunched up at the title. "'M just Ashael, Mister Eskel. And! I'm the best at daggers."</p><p>"What's all the yelling about?" Ashael's father, Idrac, said as he exited the house. He was tall with dark, umber skin. Idrac's hair was done in ornate locks, flecked with small pieces of jewelry his wife made. He sized up Eskel immediately, tensing despite Ashwood's presence. "Master Ashwood," he said with a nod, "I see you're working with a witcher today."</p><p>Ashwood reached up and supported himself on Eskel's shoulder as he stood, keeping his hand there as a reassuring pressure. "Idrac, this is Eskel," Ashwood said, nodding to the witcher. "He's been kind enough to accompany me on rounds today. You know how the merchants get."</p><p>Idrac visibly relaxed. "Right, well, thank you for keeping our healer out of trouble, Master Eskel," he said with a nod. "Being half-elven tends to make one's life difficult."</p><p>"You say that as if I'm not also a mage," Ashwood said. He rolled his eyes and let Eskel stand, keeping an eye on Ashael as he stood. The child was tracing the scars on Eskel's face in rapt fascination.</p><p>"Master Ashwood seems to be able to handle himself quite well," Eskel said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Least I can do considering he dragged me out of a field recently." </p><p>"Ahh, a patient of yours then, Master Ashwood?" Idrac smirked before regarding Eskel. "You must be the witcher our alderman hired to take care of the griffin?"</p><p>"Two griffins," Eskel grimaced. "Got caught off-guard. Lucky Ashwood and the alderman went looking for me."</p><p>"Did you kill the griffins?" Ashael asked, bouncing in her chair again. "What kind were they? Were they <i>big</i> or were they <i>huge</i>?"</p><p>The trio turned to Ashael, who looked at Eskel with all the earnestness she could muster. Eskel chuckled and knelt back down. </p><p>"Just regular griffins, luckily," he said calmly, "and yes they've been taken care of, you don't need to worry about them any more. As for size, well…" </p><p>Ashwood smiled as Eskel launched into an exceedingly complicated explanation of griffin sizes and species information. Neither he nor Idrac were sure Ashael was actually absorbing any of the information, but she certainly knew how to look like she was paying attention. </p><p>"I've got Ashael's potions and salves here," Ashwood said, digging into his basket for the remaining medicines. "I also brought over the recipe for you, in case I'm ever unable to get to you."</p><p>"Ashwood, that's not necessary," Idrac began, but Ashwood held up a hand. </p><p>"It is. And I won't be accepting payment at this time," he said with a smile, handing over the medication and recipe. "She says she's doing better."</p><p>"She really is," Idrac said, smiling at his daughter. "Thanks to you. Other healers didn't search for answers half as long as you did."</p><p>Ashwood grinned. "It's been a pleasure, Idrac. Your family has been good to me." He bowed in deference to Idrac and knelt next to Eskel and Ashael.</p><p>"Ashael, I must steal Master Eskel away now," Ashwood said, "I need to check over his wounds, make sure he's healed properly." </p><p>"Aww," Ashael pouted. "But I didn't get to show you and Eskel my daggers, Ashwood!"</p><p>"Next time, elk heart," Ashwood said, placing a kiss on her forehead. Ashael frowned, looking at Eskel with wide eyes. Eskel shrugged.</p><p>"Doctor's orders, Ashael," he said. "I'll stop by before I head out of town, alright? Finish telling you about Royal Griffins."</p><p>Ashael cheered and threw her arms around Eskel's neck, taking the witcher by surprise. He gently patted the girl's back before he pulled away and helped Ashwood to his feet. The sun was low in the sky and they had a long walk ahead of them. Ashwood waved at the house before the two slipped into the woods</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The chapter title is from NEW YORK TORCH SONG by The Amazing Devil </p><p>Ashael belongs to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dredshirtroberts/">@dredshirtroberts</a>, who is my lovely beta reader. Please go read Lia &amp; Em's Adventure in Thedas if you like Dragon Age at all - it's very good. </p><p>You can find me on tumblr <a href="concertconfetti.tumblr.com">@concertconfetti</a>! I also take fic prompts at <a href="eldritcharchives.tumblr.com">@eldritcharchives</a>! Kudos and Comments appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Such Selfish Prayers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ashwood and Eskel find themselves with an evening to kill and give in to a moment of lust. But Eskel is a dangerous man, and after hurting Ashwood while in the throes of a nightmare, he thinks perhaps he should leave. They'd be better off that way, certainly? </p><p>But young Ashael brings some worrying news, and Eskel is put in a predicament - help protect the man who saved his life or leave him to his own devices (for his own good).</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for explicit smut, vaginal sexinvolving a trans man, terrible self-esteem, and misunderstandings</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They got back to Ashwood's home just after dusk; the dark orange and pinks of the sky cast everything in the soft glow of late summer heat. Eskel saw Ashwood to the door and went out back to check on Scorpion. His horse was happily chewing on the grasses at the edge of Ashwood's garden and seemed annoyed when Eskel came around to brush him down. </p><p>"Spoiled," Eskel said. Scorpion lipped at Eskel's trousers in response, huffing and shaking his head as Eskel patted down his neck.</p><p>Confident his horse was well taken care of, Eskel made his way back to the house. He found Ashwood sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, stoking it slightly. The heat outside was enough to keep the house warm - it seemed Ashwood had lit the fire more out of habit than anything else. The half-elf's skin looked distinctly more brown in the half-light like the fire toasted him. </p><p>Ashwood smiled up at him and leaned back against his arms. "Well, Eskel, it seems we have the evening to ourselves," he said with a coy smile playing on his lips. </p><p>"Hmm, seems we do," Eskel said, his voice more a growl than words. He laid his hand on Ashwood's chest and gently pushed him back on the rug, following him down and settling between his legs. He ran his hands down Ashwood's arms before seizing his forearms and lifting them over his head. The resulting gasp from Ashwood made heat shoot down Eskel's spine and pool in his stomach. They kissed in long, languid movements, tongues slipping over each other in heated exploration. </p><p>Eskel's hands traced puckered scars on Ashwood's forearms, out of place for any of Ashwood's claimed professions. "What made these?" he whispered, foreheads pressed together as they both caught their breath.</p><p>"Perhaps I'll tell you," Ashwood replied, breathless, "but not now. I do not wish to ruin this." Eskel found he any argument he may have made disappeared when Ashwood's hips jerked up, grinding against his half-hard length and pulling a strangled groan from his lips. He seized Ashwood's lips in a biting kiss.</p><p>"Wrap your arms around my neck," he breathed, and Ashwood was quick to comply. He levered them both back into a sitting position before standing in one smooth motion. Ashwood squeaked at the change, quickly wrapping his legs around Eskel's waist. The witcher chuckled; he pressed a kiss to Ashwood's determined frown.</p><p>"Don't like being carried," Ashwood said. It wasn't like they were going far; the bed was only a dozen or so feet away. Still, Ashwood trembled slightly in his arms. </p><p>"I can put you down," Eskel offered. Ashwood shook his head.</p><p>"Just...warn a man."</p><p>"I can do that," Eskel said, nosing Ashwood just under his ear and walking them both to the bedroom. Ashwood relaxed just enough to let out a startled yelp when Eskel chucked him onto the bed.</p><p>To his surprise, when he knelt on the edge of the bed and grinned down at the mage, Ashwood burst into laughter.</p><p>"Sorry, sorry, that was just… incredible," Ashwood wheezed between giggles. "I haven't been tossed like that since I was child, Melitele's tits." </p><p>Eskel found himself laughing, as well, leaning over Ashwood with a genuine smile on his face. Ashwood grinned up at him, fists tangled in his shirt, and pulled Eskel down towards his face. They hovered there for a moment, the barest breath passing between them as their laughter faded. Eskel watched Ashwood's eyes darken as he flicked his gaze to Eskel's lips, the barest hint of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Eskel leaned forward slowly, his elbows bracketing Ashwood's head, the anticipation building a heady buzz of arousal between the both of them.</p><p>Instead of kissing Ashwood, Eskel moved to nose under his ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his neck, an almost-purr rumbling through his chest. Ashwood's fingers slipped under Eskel's shirt, calloused tips tracing the scars on his torso, lighting gently on the sutures on his right side. He pulled at the fabric; Eskel pulled away from his spit-slick trail down Ashwood's exposed skin and sat back in his thighs. He pulled his shirt off with ease, chuckling when Ashwood starred, unabashed, biting his lower lip.</p><p>"Like what you see?" Eskel asked.</p><p>"You have to ask?" Ashwood replied with a smirk. "I've told you as much so often these past two days you must be sick of hearing my fumbling attempts at bedding you."</p><p>"Hmm," Eskel hummed and hoiked up Ashwood's shirt, mouthing at one of his nipples. Ashwood choked on a whine, long and low in his chest; Eskel cataloged the noise and moved lower still. "You're wearing entirely too much clothing," he murmured against Ashwood's stomach. The laces on his trousers were fiddly and in the time it took Eskel to free Ashwood's legs from the fabric, the mage managed to wiggle out of his shirt. Ashwood made short work of Eskel's belt and trousers, leaving them both in their smallclothes. </p><p>Rough, sword-calloused hands slid their way back up Ashwood's torso, and Eskel returned to mapping the mage's body with his mouth. His skin was hot under Eskel's ministrations, and it wasn't long before Ashwood hips twitched and jerked with the effort of keeping still. Eskel moved his hand down to Ashwood's hip (he loved the feel of smooth skin under his hands, delighted when he managed to find a scar or two that made Ashwood shake when he traced them) and pinned him in place. </p><p>"Fuck, Eskel," Ashwood moaned. "More, <i>please</i>."</p><p>"Since you asked nicely," Eskel growled. The hand on Ashwood's hip slipped under his smallclothes, two exploratory fingers skating over his cock and through his extremely slick folds. Above him, Ashwood bit back a squeal, and moaned loud, so loud into the room. "So eager already," Eskel husked, "a needy little mage in the middle of the forest, hm? Desperate enough to let a wolf into his bed?"</p><p>"Ngh," was all Ashwood could manage in response, overwhelmed by Eskel's intense gaze. He threw his head back against the pillows, breathing heavily and trying desperately to not fuck himself on Eskel's hand. </p><p>"A dangerous thing, trusting a wolf," Eskel continued, pulling Ashwood's smallclothes off and out of the way. His fingers traced back up to Ashwood's cock, circling it lightly; Ashwood bucked wildly against the friction. Eskel chuckled, a low dark rumble, and he leaned down closer to Ashwood's body. "When you describe yourself," he said, breath ghosting across Ashwood's groin, "what do you call this part of you?"</p><p>"Fuck uh...m-my cock," Ashwood manages. "I know… I know it's not but AH -" Eskel cut Ashwood off by pressing the flat of his tongue against the head of his cock and swirling gently around the hood. He pulled back, eliciting a whine from his partner, and moved his fingers back through his folds to the hole there.</p><p>"And this?" He asked.</p><p>"Uhn...c-cunt or, or just… it's just a hole." </p><p>"Perfect," Eskel said and he licked up from Ashwood's hole to his cock, delighting in the herb-sweet slick on his tongue. Gods, if he wasn't already impossibly hard, the way Ashwood's body managed to get slicker with arousal and the heady scent of his need would have gotten him there. He knew his reputation was sleeping with succubi, but nothing compared to a willing and eager partner, desperate because he made them desperate. "How do you want me, hmm?" Eskel asked, his voice lust rough, "You've been so good, answering my questions. Gonna make you feel amazing."</p><p>"Melitele's <i>tits</i>, Eskel..." Ashwood cursed. "In me… I need you in me."</p><p>"Fingers or --?"</p><p>"Your cock, please," Ashwood moaned. </p><p>"Fuck, fuck, okay," Eskel pulled away and rid himself of his smallclothes. He crawled up the bed and savagely kissed Ashwood, licking into his mouth, swallowing Ashwood's every desperate keen. </p><p>Ashwood pulled away just enough to whisper, "oil… t-there's oil on the table," before Eskel thrust gently against the seam of Ashwood's hip and they moaned in unison. Eskel huffed heavy, humid breaths against Ashwood's neck gathering his thoughts in order to light the candles next to the bed with a small burst of Igni, enough to see the vial and get a good look at how wrecked the mage was. Ashwood's hair had long fallen out of its tie and his tawny skin was flushed a beautiful red most of the way down his chest; his irises were blown wide as his chest heaved, trying to catch his breath. </p><p>Vial in hand, Eskel places a last, fleeting kiss to Ashwood's jaw before biting the cork out of the vial and pouring out a generous amount of the oil. He hissed as his oil-slick hand made contact with his aching cock, giving himself a moment to revel in the pleasure pooling in his gut as his hand slid easily from base to head. Eskel grunted, squeezing the base of his cock and using the remaining oil to gently trace and stretch Ashwood's cunt. The noise he earned for his efforts was more a shout than anything. Eskel slid his hand under Ashwood's knees and, once he lined himself up properly, he pressed into Ashwood slowly, spreading his legs and pushing them forward in the process.</p><p>Eskel found himself resisting the urge to slam into Ashwood and keep a relentless pace. As good as he felt, he wanted the mage to feel better because for some reason Eskel couldn't fathom, he'd wanted the witcher in his bed and had been kind enough to ask rather than demand. That was more than Eskel got most of the time, even when he was paying. Especially when he was paying.</p><p>Ashwood squirmed and broke Eskel out of his distracted reverie - a moan tore from his lips as Eskel's cock grazed the bundle of nerves behind his cock and the walls of his cunt clenched, involuntarily, around the intrusion. Eskel groaned - it appeared neither of them would last long like this. Still, he pulled Ashwood toward him to adjust the angle, and once he sat deep within the man, he began to set the pace.</p><p>It was slow to start, making sure he reliably hit the spot that made Ashwood gasp for air and buck against him in return. Ashwood babbled strings of endearments and curses as Eskel moved his hands to Ashwood's hips and picked up the pace. </p><p>"<i>Eskel</i>," Ashwood moaned his name over and over as the witcher laid into him. "Fuck, <i>fuck me</i>, I'm close."</p><p>Eskel managed a toothy grin, set one of Ashwood's legs on his shoulder, and took his cock in between his fingers. Ashwood let out a strangled moan and Eskel pulled and traced the hard inch of nerves until Ashwood arched underneath him, mouth agape in a silent scream as he came. And fuck, fuck he was gorgeous, hot and tight and slick around him and Eskel lost his composure, chasing the edge of his orgasm hard and fast until he careened over that edge and held himself on shaky limbs over Ashwood.</p><p>They stayed like that for a while, Eskel half collapsed on top of Ashwood, whose legs slipped out of Eskel's grasp and were spread lazily to his sides. Both were covered in a sheen of sweat, gasping for breath. Eventually, though, Eskel pulled out, despite Ashwood's irritated whine at the loss. He was placated with a gentle kiss before Eskel went off to find a cloth and the remains of that morning's clean bathwater. He returned quickly with a pail and lukewarm water and gently cleaned Ashwood's cunt where it leaked with slick and cum.</p><p>"Sorry I didn't ask," Eskel said sheepishly, pulling away slightly when Ashwood hissed due to oversensitivity.</p><p>"Don't worry about it," he said with a breathy laugh. "Aratuza, remember? I'm sterile."</p><p>Eskel chuckled. "Not so worried about that; Witchers are sterile, too. I just meant…" he trailed off momentarily before finding his footing again, "that it's a bit intimate."</p><p>“I suppose so,” Ashwood hummed, “but no harm done.” He offered Eskel a soft, affectionate smile that made the witcher’s chest tighten. He gently finished cleaning, tossed the cloth in the bucket, and headed to the front room. Ashwoods tsked loudly.</p><p>"Please don't tell me you're considering sleeping on the cot after that," Ashwood said, a bit of huff back in his voice. "This bed is much more comfortable. I can even hold back on cuddling if you're not into that."</p><p>Thing was, Eskel was very much into that, but he hadn't shared a bed with anyone for sleep since - since he and Geralt set off on the Path, and stopped sharing cots as a matter of principle when they came home for the winter. There was no comfort on the Path, or there hadn't been for him, anyway. Geralt always had more luck, in that regard. Still, he found himself drifting back to the bed and sliding under the covers to Ashwood's left. The other man shot him a wide grin. </p><p>"So, are we going with no touching or…?"</p><p>Eskel hummed. "Not used to it but touching is fine," he said, turning to face Ashwood. He smiled at him and pressed a gentle kiss to the scarred half of Eskel's face before curling toward the witcher. Eskel wrapped an arm around the mage and traced nonsense designs in his back. Ashwood let out a deep, content sigh and fell asleep quickly, his breath just barely puffing against Eskel's collar bone. His heartbeat was steady, and he smelled like happiness. Eskel extinguished the candles with a snap and drifted to sleep to the sound of Ashwood's steady pulse.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>Liquid pours into Eskel's arms from somewhere above him, ice burning through his veins, his muscles, his skin. As he writhes, his bones crack against the tight restraints. His eyes are forced open, and he sees Vesemir crushed to death under the foot of a huge elf. He sees Ciri tear herself apart, rip the keep down in her grief. When he turns his head to catch a reprieve, he sees Geralt, strapped to a table, long silver hair stained at the ends with his natural red; he's bleeding, bile spills from his lips. He chokes to death, slowly, not a single witcher moving to help him. Eskel screams, has been screaming, and shoves violently against the restraints at his side.</i>
</p><p>It was the loud thud of something hitting the floor that finally woke Eskel from his nightmare. He sat up, stick-straight and wild-eyed, glancing around the room for whatever, whoever took advantage of his vulnerability. Only when he heard a soft, "shit", from the floor did he lock eyes on Ashwood. The elven man's eyes were shut in a wince as he probed the back of his head for injury.</p><p>Eskel immediately retreated, swinging himself around to hunch on the other side of the bed. He was mortified as memories of the evening came back to him, clearing the fog the nightmare laid over his mind. In the long silence, his thoughts raced - he shouldn't have stayed this long, he shouldn't have endangered this man, he needs to -</p><p>"Eskel?" Ashwood said softly as if he'd heard Eskel's thoughts. Perhaps he had - Ashwood was a mage, after all. Casually invading someone's surface thoughts was a specialty of the magically gifted. "Are you alright?" He asked.</p><p>"I'm fine," Eskel muttered, doing his level best to sound uninvolved and unbothered. "It seems I've overstayed my welcome." The witcher began to pull his clothes on from where they'd been tossed to the floor mere hours ago. </p><p>"Wait, hold on," Ashwood's voice came out broken and sad for a reason Eskel couldn't fathom, yet the straw mattress dipped and he heard every shuffle of Ashwood's body as he moved closer. He stopped a hair's breadth away from Eskel's back, almost touching, his fingertips hovering over a scarred shoulder. "Please," he whispered, "please wait?" </p><p>Eskel stilled; his shirt hung a bit loose on his torso and a single boot made it on over his trousers. He felt the press of Ashwood's fingers on his shoulder and sighed, leaning back against the touch ever so slightly.</p><p>"It's not you," Eskel said, his deep voice as close to emotionless as he'd ever managed. Still, pain leaked in around the edges. "I am a dangerous person to be around.". </p><p>Ashwood swallowed thickly and spoke up, his practiced neutrality taking over. "You should at least let me take out your sutures and feed you."</p><p>"Don't need the help."</p><p>"Well, I want to give it," Ashwood said, "and while you are in my house you are still my patient." Eskel turned and faced the mage - he looked tired, eyes tinged slightly with red though there was no trace of tears on his face. He looked resigned and serious. </p><p>With a sigh, Eskel nodded and slipped off his boot and trousers. It was midmorning, the warm glow of the sun in a clear bright sky seared through the windows of the home. Ashwood stood and stretched, slipping into a tunic before padding into his workspace.</p><p>Eskel's mind reeled. While escorting Ashwood around yesterday he'd thought, maybe, he'd found a stable place to winter - Ashwood was nice enough, a willing sexual partner, and a capable healer. Perhaps he'd have let Eskel stay. The sheer idiocy of that line of thinking, the selfishness of it made him sick. </p><p>Eskel steeled himself and walked over to the cot he'd woken up on two days earlier - impulsive, selfish witcher - and sat down. Ashwood had his back to him, heating a small bowl of water in the embers of the previous night's fire. The table was set up with scissors, clean cloth, and two cups of tea. </p><p>"Take some tea," Ashwood said, not bothering to turn around. "It'll help you wake up enough to ride."</p><p>Eskel took one of the wooden cups and forced himself to drink. This is fine, definitely fine. When Ashwood turned around, the look he fixed Eskel with was detached, like he'd pulled into himself. It made guilt twist in his chest. Ashwood sat on the ground in front of Eskel.</p><p>"May I touch your leg?" Eskel nodded; Ashwood carefully lifted his right leg and got to work. Rather than chatting, Ashwood worked with quick precision, releasing the stitches and pulling them free in calculated movements. It was only after he felt the warm cloth pressed to his thigh that Eskel realized Ashwood finished removing the first set of sutures. </p><p>"A few more minutes and you'll be free of me," Ashwood muttered. And that wasn't right, Ashwood would be free of Eskel, that was the point, preventing additional pain. </p><p>"Ashwood," Eskel started but Ashwood held up a hand. </p><p>"It's fine, really, I… don't know what I expected."</p><p>"I threw you," Eskel said, hands tossed in the air. "Witchers are… I am dangerous."</p><p>Ashwood frowned. "You're dangerous because you had a nightmare?" He asked, voice lined with a hard edge. "What happened was an accident, witcher, it doesn't make you dangerous. Don't make excuses."</p><p>"Excuses for what?"</p><p>Ashwood slammed his scissors down on the floor. "For looking at me and recoiling," he hissed. "If… if last night was some fucked up… repayment for saving your life just fucking spare me."</p><p>A hard knock echoed in the bedroom, snapping Ashwood's attention away from Eskel. His brow furrowed. A trapdoor clanged against the wall and Eskel followed Ashwood's gaze to the small elf hauling herself out of the hidden space. </p><p>"Ashael, what are you - ?" </p><p>"Ashwood! There's - there are witch hunters coming!" Ashael cried, her voice clear and bright despite the slight shake in her legs. She tried to take a step forward and stumbled, clutching at Ashwood's bookshelf for support.</p><p>Ashwood froze for a beat before he rushed forward and gathered Ashael up in his arms. The child threw her arms around Ashwood, muttering against his neck as he held her close.</p><p>"They had posters of you," she whispers, and Eskel's blood runs cold. He hadn't been to Novigrad during… during everything, but Geralt told him that after Triss got the mages out of town, the witch hunters turned their sights on non-humans. Geralt described the pyres lining the bridges into Novigrad, the banks of the river surrounding Oxenfurt, and the stink of burning flesh and abject terror that filled the poorer neighborhoods. Now that Radovid was dead, it seemed the Witch Hunters were spreading out into the south. </p><p>Ashwood was both a mage and non-human, and the witch hunters would take out any non-humans protecting him. </p><p>"Sit here, elk heart," Ashwood murmured. "Eat some berries while I finish taking care of Master Eskel." The girl nodded, hugging her knees to her chest. Ashwood grabbed a second pair of scissors and handed them to Eskel. "Congratulations, you're helping," he said flatly. Eskel took the scissors without comment and dutifully began removing sutures from his torso, allowing Ashwood to finish with his back. It took them a few tense minutes to finish removing the remaining stitches; once done, Ashwood darted into his room to throw on a pair of breeches. </p><p>“Eskel?” Ashael asked quietly. “Is Ashwood going to be okay?” She looked over at Eskel with big eyes. </p><p>“He’ll be okay,” Eskel said confidently. Ashwood returned to the room with an ingredients bag bouncing off of his hip. He busies himself with digging potions out of his workbench, pulling various ingredients from his wine rack. The witcher took a moment to don his armor - he wondered if Ashwood would object overmuch if he helped return Ashael to her parents. To at least make sure Ashwood was safe before Eskel went on his way. </p><p>“Feel free to take what you might need,” Ashwood said as he carried Ashael into the room. “I don’t have much in the way of exotic ingredients but you can stock up -” </p><p>“I’m going with you,” Eskel said, slipping his swords onto his back. When he turns to meet Ashwood’s gaze, the mage is frowning. </p><p>“That’s not necessary - “ </p><p>“I promised Ashael you’d be okay,” Eskel said firmly. “I intend to make good on that promise.” </p><p>“Please, Ashwood?” Ashael begged. The herbalist let out an exasperated breath and looked fondly at Ashael. </p><p>“Okay, elk heart,” he said softly. “Come on, Eskel, we’re low on time.” Ashwood eased himself and Ashael down the trapdoor ladder; Eskel followed close behind.</p>
<hr/><p>The walk was longer than Eskel expected; Ashael must’ve struggled to make it through the dim, dank pathways on her own. For an underground tunnel, it was surprisingly well-kept and monster free. Ashael looked at Eskel over Ashwood’s shoulder. </p><p>“Ashwood says this tunnel was here when he moved in,” Ashael said, “and he’s kept it clean in case of emergencies.” </p><p>“I have a suspicion the goat herd was sleeping with the previous blacksmith… or her husband…. Or her son,” Ashwood mused. “I don’t have enough evidence to say. It’s been nice during the winter when Ashael needs medicine and the snow actually rolls in.” </p><p>“Ashwood doesn’t like the snow.”</p><p>“Ashwood is carrying you, little elk,” Ashwood muttered, giving Ashael a gentle shake. The little girl giggled wildly. “Snow is difficult to walk through.”</p><p>“You have magic!” </p><p>“Magic doesn’t solve everything,” Ashwood intoned. “All spells have a price to be paid.” </p><p>“Sounds boring!” </p><p>Eskel hid a smile, shaking his head as they kept walking. Leave it to a child to inject levity into a dire situation. Ciri always had a knack for that when she was young.</p>
<hr/><p>“Ashael!” Idrac yelled as Ashwood emerged into their kitchen with his daughter. “What are you doing?” </p><p>“You said Ashwood was in trouble so I went to tell him!” Ashael said with a huff, as if she was stating the obvious. Ashwood set the girl down and helped Eskel out of the trapdoor. “You were too busy packing and sending mom ahead of us with Leah!” </p><p>“You were supposed to go with your mother,” Irac said, rubbing a hand down his face. His home was completely locked up, furniture covered in dust rags and his inventory packed in a small hand cart. Idrac adjusted Ashael’s locks and let out a sigh. “Thank you for returning my daughter to me Ashwood, Master Witcher.” </p><p>“Of course,” Ashwood said with a differential nod. “Think nothing of it. I brought supplies for Ashael’s potions, in the hopes I might barter for one of your swords.” </p><p>Idrac shook his head. “I wouldn’t charge you, but thank you for bringing the ingredients. I have a light set of armor and a sword made for you - as a thank you for everything you’ve done for us. We were going to give the set to you over Samhain but it seems you need it now.” </p><p>“Are they in town?” Ashwood asked, and Idrac led him to a separate room to talk. Ashael kicks at one of the dust covers while Eskel looks out of the windows to check for the witch hunters. It didn’t appear that anyone was in the woods - witch hunters weren’t known for their subtlety, so it was likely that they’d approach from the front. If Eskel can funnel them into the path, he can knock the out with a well placed Aard; perhaps he’d hit them with Igni, give them a taste of their own medicine. </p><p>“Are they here?” Ashael asked, tugging on Eskel’s trousers. “I don’t want them to hurt Ashwood and papa.” </p><p>“They won’t,” he replied. Eskel smoothed a hand over Ashael’s hair. “The witch hunters aren’t particularly smart - Ashwood and I won’t have any trouble distracting them.” Ashael nods in agreement, frowning at the window. </p><p>“Why do they hate us?” She whispered and Eskel’s heart dropped. </p><p>“That’s a big question, Ashael,” he said, “I’m not sure I can answer it for you. But you haven’t done anything wrong.” Ashael huffed.</p><p>“Of course I haven’t!” She explained with her little hands on her hips. “I’m real good at following the rules and I’ve never done anything wrong ever.” </p><p>“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Ashwood said lightly, coming back into the room. He was dressed in Tamerian-style armor - linen layers under a deep green leather jacket with leather trousers, sturdy boots and gloves to match. A longsword was strapped to his hip; he looked like he belonged in that armor. Eskel swallowed. “The witch hunters are still meeting with the alderman,” Ashwood said, looking back at Irac as he entered the room. “I suggest we get you out of town, Eskel, and I’ll head south. Ashael and Idrac are headed west to meet with the rest of their family.” </p><p>Eskel nodded, “If we go back to your home above ground we can make sure no one follows you, Idrac.” </p><p>“You have my thanks, witcher,” Idrac said. He tossed a weighty coin purse toward Eskel, which he caught out of habit more than anything. His brow furrowed. </p><p>“What… is this?” Eskel asked. </p><p>“Payment; I’m hiring you,” Idrac said. Eskel quirked a brow. </p><p>“I don’t take contracts on people,” Eskel said, tossing the bag back. “Witcher Code.” </p><p>“That’s not what I’m asking,” Idrac said. “I’m hiring you to escort Master Ashwood south. As far as Toussaint.” He tossed the coin purse back to Eskel. “That’s all the coin we’ve earned this year, save what my family needs to set up somewhere else.” </p><p>“...Alright.” </p><p>“Right, so do I get a say in all this?” Ashwood asked, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. Idroc considered him for a moment. </p><p>“No,” he said with an air of fatherly finality. Ashwood scowled. </p><p>“I am older than you by several decades, Idroc, I would appreciate it if you left my life and affairs alone,” he growled. The half-elf turned his ire to Eskel, leveling him with a dark glare. “And you! You were so desperate to leave earlier, but you’ll take money to stick around? I don’t need your help, witcher.” </p><p>Eskel shrugged and pocketed the coin. “A contract’s a contract,” he muttered, looking down. “If you can handle yourself, then my presence won’t be a danger to you.” </p><p>Ashwood growled and threw his hands up in frustration. The air in the house seemed colder - whether in reaction to Ashwood’s Chaos or due to the heated emotions whipping through everyone, Eskel couldn’t tell, though his medallion seemed relatively still - and Ashael gripped Eskel’s trousers tightly before running over to Ashwood. The mage scooped her up automatically as if the move was so familiar he didn’t need to think about it, and his expression softened considerably when Ashael threw her arms around his neck. </p><p>“Please take the witcher with you,” she said, her voice tinged with the sharp edge of tears. “He promised you’d be safe and you… you’re nice and smart and you were the only person who helped me and I don’t want you to *die*.” At this, Ashael burst into large crocodile tears, sadness, and fear leaking out of her face; she coughed out her sobs into Ashwood’s shoulder. Ashwood sank to the ground and held the little elf tightly. </p><p>“Hey, hush now,” he murmured, rubbing Ashael’s back. “It’ll be alright, I promise. We’ll be alright. If it brings you comfort, I will take Master Eskel with me.” Eskel saw the muscles in Ashwood’s hands tighten, flexing in an attempt to calm Ashael; the girl’s sobs subsided and she gripped Ashwood in an even tighter hug. Ashwood made eye contact with Eskel and nodded. “Ashael, elk heart, we’re going to need to leave now so you and your father can get going.” </p><p>Ashael pulled back from Ashwood and nodded at him, wiping some tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Will we see you again?” </p><p>“Hmm, well, I think we can make that happen,” Ashwood said with a small smile. “I gave your father a trinket that will allow you to send me a message when you’re safe and settled, alright? And then I can come visit.” </p><p>Ashael nodded and hugged Ashwood again before hopping off of him and running back over to Eskel. “You keep Ashwood safe!” She declared, hands on her hips. “Or I’ll come get you! I’m very dangerous with daggers!”</p><p>“I don’t doubt that little elk,” Eskel said, stooping down to her level. “I’ll do my best.” Ashael huffed and threw her arms around Eskel’s neck, catching the witcher off-guard. He placed his large, gloved hand on Ashael’s back and patted it gently. Ashwood leaned against the door frame, giving Ashael time to say goodbye.</p><p>“We must be going, Ashael,” Idrac said, gesturing to the remaining hand cart. “Ashwood and Master Eskel will be fine.” </p><p>Ashael reluctantly let go of Eskel. She waved at Ashwood and Eskel, tears pricking at her eyes again; when she turned, Ashwood pulled Eskel through the front door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>title from Bedroom Hymns by Florence + the Machine</p><p>Thank you so much to my lovely beta and QPP, dredshirtroberts, for the writing advice and reminders and helping me just get chapter 3 done.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Run for All You Know That's Coming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eskel and Ashwood start their flight from Lyria and find common ground.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for large, unruly crowds, intentional deadnaming, intentional misgendering, horses, mild dissociation, mind reading </p><p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dredshirtroberts">@dredshirtroberts</a> for writing some of Eskel's dialogue in this chapter when I got lost while writing this; thank you to him again for beta-ing and mentioning that a large horse being loud and unruly might actually startle someone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ashwood walked briskly toward home, Eskel trailing not far behind; the sun beat down on their backs and a soft breeze wafted through the canopy of the forest around them. Everything felt at peace, which made the tension in Ashwood’s back ache all the more. Eskel was blessedly quiet, which allowed Ashwood to process the anger welling up in his chest, at least so much as he was able amidst the litany of preparations flooding his mind. </p><p>
  <i>Notebooks - burn the generics. Save - sketchbooks, personal notes, Ashael, blanks.<br/>
Gather as many herbs as possible - Enchant a bag - Eskel’s eyes, staring, his hand on my hip, the way he looked when he turned away - </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Pack two (2) sets of clean clothes - Save the Tea Set, last thing of mother’s you have - dowse the fire - assume you’re coming back -</i>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>Ashael is so small I hope she's safe on the journey. He has such a big heart, fuck, I -</i>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <i>Don’t forget bunny don’t forget bunny don’t forget -</i>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>- gotta keep it professional. Gotta be better than Geralt and his mage. He's not mine. Not mine.-</i>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <i>Should I take sheets? No stupid no room leave them -</i>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>Will he be able to come back? won't be safe, witch hunters are ruthless. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Just get him out of here. Keep him safe.</i>
  </b>
</p><p>Ashwood frowned, his brow furrowed. His thoughts were muddled enough without the surface thoughts of his <i>keeper</i>. He needed to focus, shut Eskel out, just <i>focus</i>…</p><p>Eskel cleared his throat - they were rounding the last corner before Ashwood's house, his soon-to-be-former home, the trees and undergrowth creeping ever closer to the dirt road they walked like the forest was inching closer in an attempt to hide a single hedge mage and the Witcher hired to protect him. A ridiculous flight of fancy, to be sure, but one that eased the tension on Ashwood's face; the look he shot Eskel was more tired than angry.</p><p>"Sorry," Eskel said, hands raised in front of him. "I just. Wanted to check-in. You obviously need to pack - got a plan for heading out?"</p><p>Ashwood sighed. "I'm working on it," he said, the edge of his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I'll - I'll need some time to gather my things. Then, I suggest a southwest direction, toward Sodden."</p><p>“Right,” Eskel agreed, clearly already thinking of paths they could take. Ashwood's small home came into view and his chest tightened slightly. He'd lived here for so long and the prospect of leaving clawed at his insides. He felt reality fog around the edges and let out a heavy sigh, pushing open his door and pushing everything down. </p><p>
  <i>Notebooks - burn the generics… two sets of clothes…</i>
</p>
<hr/><p>The way Ashwood moved about his home reminded Eskel of the shaky movements of rotfiends - semi-automatic and mildly unbalanced. He watched the mage grab a bag and weave Chaos around it; Eskel's medallion hummed gently against his chest. Into the bag went notebooks and hastily grabbed handfuls of herbs, followed by bottles, salve containers, and paper-wrapped teacups. All the while, Ashwood looked separate from himself; Eskel frowned. There was nothing he could do for it but give the mage space.</p><p>Eskel grabbed Scorpion's tack and his saddlebags from the chest by the door and set out to prep his horse. He made sure to make more noise than he usually might, just to let Ashwood know where he was. </p><p>Scorpion whinnied at Eskel as he approached, nipping at his armor and stamping impatiently. Eskel stroked down his neck. "Headed out soon, Scorp," Eskel murmured as he prepared the tack. Scorpion huffed into the remains of the plants at the edge of the garden. "Ashwood's coming with us, so you'll get to enjoy being spoiled for a little longer." Scorpion huffed again, this time in Eskel's face and he lipped over the Witcher's nose. </p><p>"Okay, okay," Eskel growled, the snarl curling through his scared lip and further exposing his mutation-given fangs. "Brat. Yeah, I'm… it'll be nice to have company. Though he's not thrilled to be traveling with us."</p><p>By the time Ashwood joined them, Eskel had reorganized most of his saddlebags, hidden knives in the layers of gear on Scorpion’s flank, and started in on readjusting Scorpion’s tack out of nerves. The mage looked exhausted, his eyes glassy and distant. He had a single backpack, loaded with a bedroll and one or two of his blankets, but little else; the bag he used for his medical practice hung across his torso, resting on the opposite hip as his sword. His hair was worn loose and he looked decidedly more effeminate. </p><p>“Are you alright?” Eskel asked softly, quiet enough that Ashwood could ignore him if he’d wanted. Still, Ashwood sighed and placed a gentle hand on Scorpion’s snout. </p><p>“I’ll be alright,” he breathed the words more than he said them, “I just hate this.” Ashwood indicated his hair, his armor, but Eskel got the feeling he also meant the prospect of traveling with a Witcher. </p><p>“I know it’s not ideal, traveling with me,” Eskel said as he heaved himself up onto the saddle. “We can… I can get you to a safe point farther south and you can portal the rest of the way. I don’t… I know I hurt you this morning and I don’t want to make this any harder on you.”</p><p>Ashwood’s expression became unreadable, a mix of confusion, anger, and sorrow if the sour-tinged scent lingering around him was anything to go by. He scoffed and turned away. </p><p>“Let’s just get out of here,” He said firmly. “Getting through town will take time. We’ll figure out a plan that benefits both of us once it’s safe to stop for the evening.” Ashwood turned then, and walked confidently in the direction of town, expecting Eskel to follow. The Witcher nudged his horse into a trot and they made their forced pilgrimage east.</p>
<hr/><p>They don’t run into the witch hunters until they get closer to the open-air market. Ashwood tensed immediately and fell back towards Scorpion’s flank, doing his best to diminish his presence. Eskel paid him as little mind as possible. Still, inevitably, they were singled out by the strained looks the villagers shot Eskel, and the silent concern directed at Ashwood.</p><p>"Whozzat then?" A witch hunter spat, pointing at Ashwood. He was part of a loud group near the tavern and caught one of the good women of the village handing Ashwood a loaf of bread. Eskel shrugged.</p><p>"Bard. He's paying me," Eskel offered.</p><p>"What could a bard possibly want with a witcher," another hunter said, voice tinged with disgust. Ashwood leaned against Scorpion's flank in order to remain mostly out of sight.</p><p>"These woods are dense with wolves, sire," Ashwood said. Eskel shot him a glance; the mage had changed his accent to be more reminiscent of those from Oxenfurt. "Master Witcher here is kind enough to escort me to the city."</p><p>"Aye, if that's the case, why's it that you've got a sword?" A ridiculous question - anyone traveling through the woods in Lyria needed a sword. They were baiting them, trying to catch the "bard" and his witcher in a lie. </p><p>Ashwood gasped as if disgusted. "I'll have you know, sire, that I am an excellent swordsman! Trained by the best instructors in Oxenfurt. If I'm to write anything about my travels with Master Witcher, I have to pull my weight as well. Unlike that louse, Marx, or worse, <i>Pankratz.</i> Useless poets, the both of them. I play, sire, of course, but my trade is chiefly in travel guides." He sniffed dramatically and stepped away from Scorpion a bit. </p><p>Eskel very nearly broke their cover but managed to turn the rogue laugh building in his throat into a snarl at the last second. "Are we done?"</p><p>The entirety of the mob of witch hunters took a step back from Eskel and his charge and the tavern owner decided, then, to make a well-intentioned entrance. </p><p>“Sirs, your meal is ready,” he said with a good-natured smile that failed to diffuse any tension. "Please -"</p><p>When a tavern owner hits the wall of his own tavern, the sound is unlike anything anyone is prepared for - the crack of wood and bone and the shouting of townsfolk. Ashwood's eyes went wide and he lurched forward; Eskel barely managed to catch him by the shoulder. </p><p>"We know you're hiding the mage Ashlin of Daevon," one of the men, dressed as a priest of the Eternal Fire, calls into the growing crowd of village folk. Ashwood stood shock-still. "Her last known location was Gulet, in Aedirn, twenty years ago."</p><p>"We ain't got a sorceress!" Someone yelled. The crowd pressed in dangerously, shouting obscenities and half-truths in defense of Ashwood; Eskel scowled and gripped Ashwood's shoulder tightly before letting him go.</p><p>"We're leaving," he growled, "before this gets worse." Ashwood nodded, his gaze distant and numb. Eskel urged Scorpion forward, gently, through the outer edges of the crowd. Over the din, the useless demands of the hunters and the villagers melded together, though Eskel heard a few distinct voices describing a lone house west of the village. </p><p>"Check there, if you're so desperate!" The voice belonged to one of the merchants they'd run into yesterday; they threw a look over at Eskel and jerked his head toward the forest. *None too subtle.* </p><p>The witch hunters pressed outward against the crowd and sent villagers battering against Ashwood, pressing him against Scorpion. A roar ripped its way out of the large horse, startling everyone around Eskel and his mount; the reins creaked in Eskel's hands as he tried to keep Scorpion under control.</p><p>"Come on, Bard," Eskel shouted and urged Scorpion away from the crowd, southeast. Scorpion reared, nearly missing a few townsfolk and sending even more running, before he took off at a fast trot, leaving Ashwood to run behind on foot. Scorpion calmed shortly after, but Ashwood's breathing was ragged, fueling the tension in Scorpion. It would be a long walk until they could safely break for the night.</p><p>"Okay?" Eskel asked gently. Ashwood barely looked at him but nodded his ascent. It would do for now.</p>
<hr/><p>They walked for hours in silence. Ashwood knew one of the merchants pointed out his house - heard it when Eskel turned them southwards. On a look backward, he'd seen smoke and the unmistakable light of flames dancing above the trees; the fire threw up the occasional spark of blue or green, a clear sign of alchemical materials reacting with the heat. His house. Ashwood hoped for another decade or two in that house. Moreover, he'd hoped to return there after this mess blew over. </p><p>Ashwood supposed it was never going to blow over. </p><p>Scorpion let out a loud whiny and skid to halt, stamping his hooves against the packed dirt trail. He stopped short of tossing his rider, rearing and letting loose a loud roar that echoed through the woods. Ashwood skid to a stop, aware, suddenly, that Scorpion was a warhorse, large and entirely capable of causing grievous harm. Eskel quickly scrambled and slipped from the saddle; he held his hands up in front of Scorpion, murmuring and trying to calm the stallion down. Ashwood found himself backing away from them and off the road, seemingly forgotten until he fell backward into a divot on the edge of the road. </p><p>Eskel's eyes snapped over to Ashwood. He absently patted Scorpion's neck as the horse came back to its senses. Ashwood swallowed and wrapped his arms around his torso as if to protect himself from Eskel's intense, reflective gaze.</p><p>"W-wants a break huh?" Ashwood's voice cracked as he spoke, both from fear and disuse. He was aware, again, of the shakes that wracked his body, a physical reminder of the fear he'd pressed down and ignored. The Witcher's expression was unreadable; his eyes darted across Ashwood's face as if trying to read something in the lines of grief around his eyes. </p><p>"Yeah," Eskel said, finally, "we don't usually...we haven't encountered a crowd like that in a while." Eskel brushed his large, calloused hands down Scorpion's neck and the horse settled, snorting and huffing in Eskel's face. Eskel's face crinkled in a return huff, an expression that was free of the kind of self-consciousness Ashwood had seen from the Witcher so far. After a moment of calm, the man laughed - waves of soft, deep sound washing over Ashwood's anxiety - and pushed Scorpion's big head away from him and Ashwood's heart seized in his chest. </p><p>Gods, he was cursed to traveling with a man this gorgeous who found him… perhaps not disgusting but still. Not someone to <i>stay</i> with, and Ashwood still struggled to rein his heart in.</p><p>Ashwood sighed and walked brazenly into the undergrowth, startling Eskel out of whatever world he'd disappeared into. The woods were familiar to Ashwood - his mother raised him on the edge of the forest surrounding Deavon, taught him where to step and how to look out for monsters. He was no witcher - he was sure Eskel had little trouble seeing in the dark, where Ashwood needed the small amount of flame he summoned between his fingers (and even then, he still had to squint) - but he could hold his own. </p><p>"There's a shallow alcove here," he called over his shoulder, loud enough to be conversational but not easily overheard by most folk. "Should be decent for a camp - allow for a fire. Don't see any sign of nekkers or arachnomorphs - at least not obvious ones." Eskel grunted, closer than expected and Ashwood jumped. "Sweet Freya, could you please warn a man?" </p><p>"Sorry," Eskel said, a hand flying up to rub at the scarred side of his face. "Let me… watch Scorpion while I double-check. Not that I -"</p><p>"Doesn't hurt to check," Ashwood interrupted, gesturing to the shallow dip in the rock. </p><p>They set up camp quickly - there were, of course, no signs of monsters - and Ashwood laid out the bed rolls close to the rocky outcrop while Eskel found enough wood for a small fire. It was late summer, and the nights were warm enough that the fire wouldn't be necessary for much more than cooking. Still, the routine of it calmed everyone, and soon the two men were settled against the alcove wall eating rations in agreeable silence. For a time at least. Eskel had cast looks in Ashwood's direction - ones that betrayed a sort of worried indecision, like he wanted to ask something or reach out but wasn't sure how. Ashwood could have simply skimmed his thoughts, answered his question directly, but he hated breaking that last bastion of privacy. Instead, he heaved a (slightly dramatic) sigh. </p><p>"They found my house, I'm certain," he muttered, not quite talking to Eskel, but not ignoring him either. "Something...alchemical was on fire back there, so they must've." Ashwood sat his medical bag in his lap and dug through its contents until he pulled out a notebook, tracing the name carved delicately into the spine - <i>Ashael.</i> Ashwood swallowed. "I'd lived there for twenty years - longest place I'd lived anywhere. Besides Aretuza." </p><p>Silence stretched out like a chasm between them; when Ashwood looked up, Eskel looked grief-stricken. "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "I… It's hard to lose a home." He looked away then, scowling at himself. Turning away was always easier. </p><p>Anger sparked low in Ashwood's gut, still. He shouldn't be this mad at Eskel, but it was hard for him to imagine anything other than the horrifying rejection he'd seen that morning. It'd happened to him so many times before. But that pain was so infinitesimally small compared to fleeing yet another home. Running, like he'd been doing most of his adult life. </p><p>"It is," Ashwood agrees, finally, a smile tugging at his lips despite everything. "I thought maybe I'd be used to it by now but it never gets any easier. This is the hardest one to lose, I think. Besides the first."</p><p>Eskel cleared his throat awkwardly, obviously wanting to change the subject. "Interesting reading?" he said, gesturing to Ashwood's notebook and immediately scowling -  Ashwood heard Eskel's thought <b><i>Stupid</i></b> echo through his head unbidden. (These slips, errant thoughts flowing from Eskel's worried mind into Ashwood's distracted one, worried the mage. His walls weren't usually this permeable.) Obviously, he was not reading the notebook in his hands. He hadn't turned a page since he opened it, fidgeting with the corner and edges and glancing between the page, the fire, and the woods and trail behind them. Still, Ashwood hummed and offered Eskel a kind look.</p><p>"These are… these are just my medical notes," he says. "I have - had - a number of them for the village. Helped me keep track of treatments I'd tried for various conditions." He paused and held up the notebook at an angle; "This entire notebook is dedicated to Ashael. I tracked all of her treatments and their associated experiments here. Each started with trials on me, before I moved to people who need the... the thing," Ashwood said, gesturing vaguely to indicate medications, potions, and therapies. </p><p>"That's smart," Eskel said with a sharp nod, his expression carefully schooled. "We do something similar when adjusting potions - a brother of mine likes to play with levels of things, tests them on himself where there's relatively little danger before using them out in the field." </p><p>"I suppose 'little danger' means something different to Witchers," Ashwood says carefully, smirking when Eskel raised an eyebrow at him. "But yes, that's the premise. Most mages, those I knew at least, would not have treated Ashael well. And all the healers she'd seen before had barely tried anything. She'll never have full mobility, but she deserves to live with less pain." He shrugged before gently closing the notebook. "That's all I've ever wanted to do with my connection to Chaos - heal people like my mother does."</p><p>Eskel swallowed, nodding again. <i>Not a conversation many could keep up with</i>, Ashwood chided himself, slipping the notebook back into his bag and pulling out another one, the cover blessedly blank. He opened it and pulled out a graphite stick. </p><p>"Any… any pain today?" He asked casually. Eskel snorted. </p><p>"Keeping a notebook on me?" His eyebrows raised and a smile tugged at the corners of Eskel's lips. Ashwood smiled back. </p><p>"I may as well start learning how to care for witchers if we're to travel to Tousaint together," he said gently. Eskel's confusion stamped its way across his face. Ashwood waved him off. "Portals are taxing and this arrangement allows us to… perhaps part as friends rather than scorned bed -partners." He straightened his back and laid out his notes. "So. What should I know?" </p><p>"Fuck, where do I start?" Eskel said with a bark of a laugh. He launched into a description of some of the common mutagens in Witchers, and the two talked well into the night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>chapter title from Love Run by The Amazing Devil</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>UPDATE: I updated the relationship list because honestly, it's more accurate. The crew at Corvo Bianco is a large complicated polycule and it's lovely but it is almost entirely in the background.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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